Some widgets have options that are only available when you get Core Membership.

We've split the page into zones!

Certain widgets can only be added to certain zones.

"Why," you ask? Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right.

Mind jerking awake, he sat up. His vision was unclear and zoomed in and out like a camera adjusting its focus. It didn't take long for him to know that he was in his bed. Well, on top of it at least. Breathing deeply as tried to catch his breath, the brunette felt sweat trickle down the side of his face and forehead while the rest of his body felt rather warm. He lifted his right arm to his face, covering his eye as his finger tips brushed through his chocolate hair. What happened, how did he get in bed? How long had he been asleep? And when did he fall asleep anyway?

Ryan worked on forcing his mind to remember. Vision clearer in the dark, the only light was from his laptop that was half on his lap at an odd angle. He must have passed out while on it. Looking at the screen, he started to remember what he was doing before he fell asleep.

DamnNoHTML: What the fuck Ry?! You're getting mad at every little fucking shit thing I fucking say or ask when I'm just trying to fucking look out for your dumb fucking ass!

ChaoticMonki: Fuck you! Last time I checked I didn't fucking ask for any of that from you! Fuck off my case, Jund!

Pushing his eyes away, Ryan couldn't read anymore. His heart felt heavy. It was even worse that he didn't get a reply. He sighed heavy. Slowly though, he was more annoyed with hints of anger. It was easier to feel more than anything else. Whatever.. Tone almost hissing as his hands pushed the laptop away on the bed off his leg. Rubbing his eyes as he swung his feet to the floor, Ryan felt the rings under his eyes. "Fuck.." he mumbled to himself. He didn't need Scott Motherfucking Jund to fucking baby his ass. "I can fucking take care of myself!" Yeah. Right.

Sighing heavily as his hands rested beside him on the bed. Ryan wasn't feeling so great. Fantastic. Stomach grumbling, he looked over to the laptop again, minimizing the Skype screen. He heard a ping but ignored it and didn't give it much thought as he looked to the clock. "Shit..It's fucking three in the morning " Ryan growled lowly, agitated that he was awake and fell asleep. He wouldn't get back to bed.

"If you can take such great care of yourself you should have no problem going back to bed."

The very sound of Scott's voice on the laptop made his eyes dart to realize that he had been in a voice chat the whole damn time. Hazel eyes narrowed further as he yelled, "Would you fuck off already!?" Ending the call and slamming the laptop shut, Ryan was now int he dark of his bedroom.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Scott's hands balled into tight fists as he slammed them against the desk as a loud swear echoed in his room bouncing off the walls. He had sworn so loud it scratched his throat. Huffing breaths, this was more out of hand and he couldn't do anything so far away from Ryan. The others sure as fuck couldn't go to Florida either. And with how he has been, there was no way whoever did manage to go, they would most likely not be welcomed. Looking to his desktop computer monitors, Scott was swift to act. No time to waste, he made the Skype call.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Eyes still glaring it felt like his whole person was on fire. Grinding his jaw, his fingers tensed with the rest of him as he turned his head away sharply and stood up. He was still dressed in his torn jeans and pull over green hoodie. Even his sneakers were on. Sighing hotly with aggravation and annoyance, he walked out of his room, passing some empty glass bottles and cans, all alcohol related, as he made his way into the kitchen. Not giving the slightest shit about the cans and bottles in the sink and counter top, he opened the fridge and grabbed a six pack.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"I have no fucking idea man,-"

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Taking it in his hand, he tore one away from the plastic binding as he straightened himself out standing. His finger pulled the tab, the fizzing sound meeting his ears. Heel kicked the door closed as he tilted his head back already guzzling the contents of the can.

deviantID

My real name is of no importance to anyone that doesn’t know me in real life, so you can call me any name associated to my username. I am twenty years old and I have been writing at a young age. Digging deeper just slightly below the surface you’ll find I am a very complicated. I can only imagine your thoughts to reading that as I am well aware many people are and/or say that they are. But hell I said it anyway. Deal with it or don’t give a damned. Whichever works for you.

Getting into my art side of things, I started out drawing by tracing books that my aunt would buy for me to entertain me when she would baby sit me. With that said, I would hope you can tell that was a long time ago. Seriously. If you think for a second that it wasn’t – you have a pretty funny mind there. Nice humor and all that funny stuff.

Style is very rough around the edges because it is simply my style. Well, not MY style, I don’t own it and I am not claiming anything but you get what I mean. I would hope. But as for the reason of it being my style of art, it honestly fits my personality and I have been often told that it makes my drawings feel/seem more alive. It doesn’t help that, like most artists, there’s a story behind the art pretty much- no not pretty much – every time.

When it comes to my writing, I started around the age of seven (slight estimation). The reason I say that is because I know I was seven on my first trip in NYC to see Broadway’s “A Christmas Carol” and while listening to Bring Me to Life by Evanescence I imagined something that I was already picturing in my mind. With that random piece of information no one probably cares about, I mine as well move right along to the style behind this as well.

I’ve always been a writer after that and things have certainly progressed, like everyone does as they get older no matter what it is they do art or not. Now I am known for my writing more than my art, though many enjoy the art just as equally. I, again, have been told that I write in such a way that it draws them into what it is they are reading. Understanding the meaning behind why or what I wrote or not, they find themselves seeing something they don’t want to pull away from. Again, this is not me bragging or being some ego-waffle. It’s just what I have been told many times. And besides, I mine as well mention that there is a big difference in ego and pride. I would like for more people to know this as not many do sadly.

For the theme of things, I write on the deeper and darker side of things. I vent through writing and drawing often so there’s albums that pertain to that; Me Myself and Mind. Many/some might question my writing and what it is about, but all I am going to say to that is:

You don’t know me.

Ending on that hate sounding note, you read this much, mine as well take a look in the albums and see what you think for yourself, yes? Yes. I think so. Or go on YouTube or whatever you do on the interwebs.

C’ya.

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The Freshmen to my Seniority. The Casey to my Owl. RolePlay. The Pewds to my Cry. RolePlay.